Stormy Waters
by TraceZBullet
Summary: Inspired by a thunder storm. GrissomSara. Rating for possible future chapterslanguage
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Distant thunder rumbled in a deep ominous tone. It seemed to be charging nearer and nearer until it shook the glass in the windows. The floorboards protested in indignation with vibrating groans. It seemed as if Armageddon would be arriving early.

Then, with a sudden leap like a wild stallion, it was gone. Just as suddenly, rain crashed down from the heavens. The stallion snorted one last time in the distance. Waves or rain poored down, booming against the sides of the small house. Clouds the dark color of tea leaves obliterated the helpless moon in an instant. The air had a scent, an expectant, charged smell. But, no flashes of lightening lit up the dark world.

There was only the roar of thousands of pounds of water bombing the dry desert.

Sara lay awake, wondering if she should get up and look out. She wanted desperately not to be afraid. It was a simplistic, childish fear she told herself. After all the human-caused destruction and terror she saw at work, the thunder should be the least of her fears. But it wasn't. Each sudden punch of loud thunder caused her to jolt in surprise. She was painfully conscious of how alone she was and how much she wished there was a warm body in the bed, next to her.

She decided to distract herself from the storm outside but was confronted with her own inner storm. Thoughts and images from the past streamed through, behind her eyelids. A whispered word, a secret smile. Intense blue eyes showing love, lust, anger, pain. It seemed that each time a spark flew, and she tried to catch it, she was burned.

Grissom, too, was lying awake, but not because of the storm. Not the one outside, anyway. He was drowning deep inside an emotional one. Two conflicting feelings, two parts he wanted to play; boss and lover. Each right and wrong in its own way. Should he call? Should he talk to her at work?

He knew she would be afraid of the storm. The simple fact that he knew such an intimate quirk put him in deeper agony. One thing was certain, a boss shouldn't know that. He had always hated himself for having to be so distant with her. But, when he occasionally let his guard down, and his feeling show through, he had no power to make her trust him.

Finally, he thought, _she needs me either way._

Sara finally gave up on tossing and turning in the dark bedroom and flicked on a light. She grabbed some pajama pants and put her hair into a loose pony tail. The fingers of the rain tapped on her windows. She shuffled to the kitchen, wide awake, but decided to make some coffee any way. She smiled as she pulled the bag of Blue Hawaiian, a present from a very eager Greg, from the cabinet. As she set it down on the counter, she looked absently over at the phone. The message light was blinking. She was tempted to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of her.

She plucked the handset from its cradle and typed in the pass code to access voicemail. A cold, female voice ordered her to wait. Thunder roared again, causing her heart to jump, or maybe it was because she recognized the number. She calmly listened to the message, but as she put the phone down, her hands began to shake.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Press seven to save the message," the robotic voice said.

"Press nine to hear it again." Sara managed to order her thumb to not press the 9 again. She had it memorized any way.

Sara clutched the edge of the counter; it was both an anchor holding her down in stormy seas of her emotions and a buoy keeping her from collapsing. Sara stared at the phone, unblinking. Lightening cracked and the lights dimmed. Sara jumped and felt herself reaching for the handset.

Grissom closed his eyes. Outside, the rain ran its fingers across the roof, making a whispering sound. It sounded like a thousand butterflies were fluttering overhead. He could still hear himself whispering into the phone. He remembered the naked, detached sound of his voice. He remembered the speech as if someone else had used his mouth to say it. And he remembered the stampede of adrenaline when he finished.

His two parts, two masks fought for control of his actions. One, the lawful one, the one he should be; the other, the right one. Each wanted to become the only part. He stared at the pristine carpet. The storm brewed.

All he could do was wait, and hope he didn't tear in half first.

His voice echoed in her ears, drowning out the thunder. Sara pressed the first number. He sounded...torn. She punched the second and the third. She didn't know what to think-or what she was doing. The sky cleared its throat. Another big one was coming. Sara hurriedly dialed the last few digits and heard the line connect. One ring, two, and she heard a gravelly voice on the other side.

She clung to the phone and stuttered out, "Gr-Griss."

"Sara," he said lowly. Before he could force out another word, an explosion rocked the atmosphere.

The earth shook in fearful protest, and the wave of sound resounded inside both of them. Sara sucked in a gulp of air in involuntary surprise. A bright flash of light pierced the soaked air.

"Sara," Grissom said hesitantly, "I can come over-"

The power went dead. White noise.

The streets became rivers, the houses: islands. The barrage of water caused the dark street lamps to shake. Trash cans and recycling containers braved the stormy seas. Some clung to benches and bus stops; momentarily escaping the rough hands of the current.

Grissom threw the car into gear and backed the car out: feeling like he was piloting a submarine. When it rains in Vegas, it _rains. _The water knocked on the sides of the car, asking to be let in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

She stood behind the screen door, watching the confusion of the storm and waiting. She wished he was there so much that it hurt. A boom of nearby thunder sent her nerves into renewed frenzy. Deep down, she was pretty sure he wouldn't come, yet she wished she could feel his protective arms around her. She held back a sob of fear and loneliness. The rain pelted the sidewalks outside with strengthened vengeance.

Slowly, she pushed the thin door open and walked out from under the roof's protection. Instantly, she was soaked. He wasn't coming. Softly, she began to cry. Lightening momentarily lit up the world with a crack–then darkness. Her hair was plastered to her skin. Sara's clenched her hands so hard that her fingernails cut into her pale skin, drawing blood.

Blood dripped to the sidewalk and slid away, caught in the water.

Grissom pulled the car, with some difficulty, around the corner and on to her street. He wondered if he should even be there. Even from a few blocks away, he could see her, standing on her front walk, soaking wet, and– in her pajamas? He stomped on the accelerator, trying to get the car to respond but the wheels only spun, unable to get traction in the several inches of water. He gave up and killed the engine. He knew he was going to get drenched but somehow he didn't care. Sara was all that mattered and at the moment, she was crying by herself in the cold storm. He felt the water slosh into his shoes as he ran across the street to the sidewalk. The rain wrapped her icy fingers around him. "Sara!" he yelled and even to him, it sounded quiet, muffled. The sound of the rain was overpowering.

Sara heard a faint sound but didn't bother to look up. She retreated further into her inner shell. Haunting memories violated her sanctuary. Horrible sounds wormed their way out of her sub-conscious memory. Her fists clenched tighter and her white knuckles turned whiter.

Grissom's feet splashed under him, his breath came in gasps. He refused to stop, it was only a few more yards– then he was there, at her side, the place where he had wanted to be ever since he met her. She sobbed, apparently unaware of his presence. He stretched out a wet arm and drew her to his chest. Her fists remained at her sides. "Sara," he said in her ear, "Sara, it's me, Grissom, it's okay."

She sobbed in response but her fists unfurled and she wrapped her arms around his waist. She gripped him tightly; he was her buoy in the storm.

With her cold, wet hair pressed against his chin, Grissom was left with one thought: this was exactly where he belonged.

After a few minutes, Sara's grip began to slacken and her knees gave out. Luckily, Grissom was already mostly holding her up and he caught her. He lifted her carefully and walked to her front door. He opened it with the hand that was supporting her legs and shuffled inside. He set her gently on the couch for the moment and respectfully left his shoes in a puddle by the door. He couldn't help feeling slightly like an intruder as he opened her linen closet at the end of the hall and pulled out several towels. He slipped into the bathroom and toweled off as well as he could before putting his damp clothes back on.

Back at her side, he tried to dry her off as much as he could without feeling like he was violating her. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it under her side. He stretched out a hand to touch her cheek but stopped himself and backed away, cursing himself for his lack of restraint, even when she was asleep.

He padded to the kitchen and eventually found two mugs and some instant cocoa. Every few minutes, he would go back and peek at her, sleeping so peacefully.

Slowly, Sara regained consciousness, one sense at a time. She felt the wooly texture of a blanket all around her, tucked in snugly. She could smell nothing at first, then a delicious aroma of hot chocolate, a very comforting smell. She smiled. Finally, she forced her weak eyelids to open and a blurry world appeared. She blinked. "G–Grissom?" she managed to croak.

He appeared at her side instantly, holding two steaming mugs. She struggled to sit up. Immediately, he set the two mugs on the coffee table and helped her to a sitting position. He rearranged her blanket and handed her a hot chocolate before leaning back next to her.

She pulled a hand out of the blanket and gently touched his rough cheek. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around her as she leaned into him. Yes, definitely where he was supposed to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Sorry about the slow updates but this time, I'm trying to write longer chapters and it's hard! I was also being lazy, waiting for inspiration... But then it rained again today so here ya go:

**Chapter Four**

Grissom could feel her hot breath caress his neck as her head rested on his shoulder. He could hear her heart beat, synchronizing with his. It was an odd feeling, this sudden closeness. It was disconcerting yet it wasn't entirely unpleasant. She was so close that every time she blinked, her eyelashes barely tickled his skin, reminding him of the feeling of butterflies landing. He closed his eyes to concentrate on her every breath all the better.

"Griss," Sara said after a while.

"Yes," he said huskily, his voice vibrating in his chest, causing Sara's ear to tingle. One of his hands came alive and touched her hair, tentatively. Both of their heartbeats sped up, ever so slightly.

"Thank you," she said quietly, trying to ignore the burning on her cheeks and in the pit of her stomach. Grissom sipped his hot chocolate and replaced it on the coffee table._ All without spilling a single drop or moving his other hand,_ Sara thought, bemused. The silky feeling of her hair against his fingers overwhelmed his every other sensation.

The rain still hammered down outside, without showing any signs of letting up any time soon. "We should take a look at your hands," he murmured suddenly. She moved to look up at him questioningly. He uncurled his legs and bustled away to the bathroom. Sara smiled to herself. Somehow, she wasn't offended that he had peeked around and found her bathroom while she was sleeping.

Grissom was back at her side in an instant: holding cotton balls, hydrogen peroxide, and bandages. He knelt in front of her and hesitatingly took one of her hands. He gently unrolled her fingers to reveal four identical cuts across her palm. In one quick, fluid motion, he wet a cotton ball and began to dab at the first of the cuts. Sara hissed as the solution began to fizz and pain shot from the small wounds.

Shortly, the pain ceased and all she could feel was the gentle, circular motion Grissom made as he cleaned first one palm, then the other. She couldn't remember clenching her fists so tightly. Unexplainably, Sara felt tears coming to her eyes. What else couldn't she remember? "Sara," Grissom said. It was all she needed to come back from the brink of panic– his voice. She stared into his eyes to keep from staring at her hands and found herself drowning as he stared back, unblinking.

Grissom could feel her pulse rate shoot up as he looked back at her. He was sure his was shooting up too. Quickly, he looked away before it got too dangerous and he grabbed a bandage and focused on applying it. He noticed an old white mark on her left hand as he wrapped the bandage over the new wounds. He looked up to her and traced it with his finger. She smiled almost imperceptibly.

He gathered up the used cotton balls and the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. As he turned away to return them to the bathroom, Sara looked at him, suddenly puzzled. "Grissom, you're still wet," she said in dismay.

"I've got nothing else to put on."

Sara would hear nothing of it. She pushed herself to her feet wincing only momentarily as her palms were pressed to the couch for leverage. Quickly, she went to her bedroom, Grissom trailing behind– satisfying his secret wish of seeing Sara Sidle's bedroom before he died. He chuckled to himself, under his breath. Sara dug through a messy dresser drawer: pulling out pairs of jeans, the odd tee-shirt and several pairs of sweat pants. Finally, she found what she was looking for and yanked out a rather large college sweatshirt.

"Where'd you get such a large–" Grissom began.

"I won a door prize at a game one time and extra-large was the only size they had left," Sara explained. Grissom nodded, slightly relieved that it wasn't an old boyfriend's. Not that he had any right to– his jaw clenched. Sara pawed through several more drawers and finally produced a stretched out pair of pajama pants. He accepted them gratefully. "Now go change, you're already leaving a puddle on my floor." Grissom looked down and, to his embarrassment, she was right. She shooed him out and quickly dumped the pile of clothes she had just emptied on to the floor back into the dresser. With minimal difficulty, she kicked the drawer shut. Sara pulled the damp clothes she was still wearing off and slipped a large worn-out work shirt over her head. She pulled her fingers through her hair a few times– she wasn't sure why and took a deep breath before opening the door and returning to the living room.

Grissom was just sitting down when she entered wearing a button-up men's shirt that must have just barely covered her panties. His heart jumped against the constraining walls of his chest. Innocently, she joined him on the couch and he prayed she didn't read him well enough to know what he was feeling. She gracefully tucked her legs underneath herself and picked up her waiting mug of cocoa. She sipped it delicately and licked the foam off her upper lip like a cat with cream. He watched in awe of her every moment, trying to memorize each second forever because he was afraid their wouldn't be another chance. She would wake up in the morning and no longer need his protection. The storm would end both outside, and inside her.

Sara watched him over the rim of her mug, her eyes dancing, as if she knew she was affecting him. He decided it was a good time to examine the swirling contents of his own mug. He was inwardly glad that his beard made it hard, if not impossible, to tell when he was blushing.

But Sara knew. She could see the way his ears pinkened. That same way when she brushed against him when they were working together in the lab. She swallowed the last gulp of warm liquid with that thought floating lazily in her head.

She sighed contentedly and set the mug down before leaning back and drawing the blanket over them both. Grissom rationalized that in was uncomfortable the way her weight was pinning his arm to his side so he snaked it out and slid it over her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind. It made her feel protected and safe. The storm, which had pitter-pattered on without their notice, gathered up it's remaining strength and seemed to recede for a moment. She chose that second– when the world seemed to hold its breath– and leaned up. His bristly chin tickled her cheek. There was the drip-drip sound of the water brushing pavement. Their lips met the instant heaven cracked open and a deafening boom resounded so loud and so close that their hearts stopped and everything shook.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the slow update guys! I promise to be better next time. I'll flesh out the next chapter, think of this as a good thing to read as you wait:D Sorry again! Enjoy!**

Chapter Five

The cacophony outside died away and was replaced by the sound of their thundering hearts. Grissom had stretched out under her. Their bodies were pressed tightly together and he was in utter and complete shock.

He found himself in Sara's arms and he was there solely because they wanted it. For once, they didn't have to think of any body else. They could be selfish. They could have what they wanted- and they wanted each other. They kissed passionately- pouring six years worth of bottled up desire and frustration into it.

Sara was shaking, though not from cold or from fear (though that was there too,) but from the intensity of the moment. To feel his hot breath, his electric touch, and his galloping heart so wonderfully near was almost overwhelming. She felt a tug at her heart string when she realized how reverent he was of her.

Grissom's eyes- pools of blue- intense and gentle at the same time. Sara finally understood the expression "making love to someone with your eyes" because he was definitely doing it. Sara kissed him again, and they stared: chocolate to deep ocean. He had love-making eyes.

Suddenly, Sara was crying again. Her tears glossed across her cheeks and fell; only to get caught in his beard as she kissed him. Her eyes were closed and some of the tear droplets hung like jewels on her lashes. She sensed his confusion and pulled away. "Is kissing me that bad?" he asked. The joke fell flat.

"What?"

"Why are you crying?" he asked gently.

She punctuated her words with kisses, "I'm. So. Happy." Once again, their bodies meshed together and she kissed him, panting. Like a man hoping not to wake up from a dream, he touched her with hands as light as the raindrops outside. She moved against his every caress: soundlessly asking him to stroke her harder. Instead, he unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing and slid it over her bare shoulders. He opened his eyes to examine her again.

Sara stared back, lips full and moist, cheeks flushed. Her eyes were two lakes of black desire held back only by a weakening dam of hesitancy. Grissom strained forward and roughly brought her lips to his. He treated the rest of her like glass. She slid a leg around his waist and buried one hand in his curls. "Are you sure?" Grissom whispered and Sara's stray right hand stopped. 'Concern' (as Grissom called it) was etched in his handsome features and she knew it was only because he didn't want to take advantage of her. She lost her voice for a moment, it touched her so much.

"Without a doubt, yes," she managed in a gasp.

His hands had slid down to her lower back and teased around her panty line. Gooseflesh rose to his touch. 'Because I can stop at any time," he offered, feigning seriousness this time.

Sara punched his chest playfully. His grip tightened in reaction and a small "oh!" of air passed through her lips. With a sudden fluid movement- Sara's underwear hit the ground. His gentle hands spread more goose bumps across the backs of her legs. She was naked on top of him and he was suddenly very, very aware of how little material seperated them from the most intimate physical connection a man and a woman can share.

He kissed her cheek, then her chin, then the sensitive part of her neck. Her hand found it's way under his shirt and he shuddered with joy as their bare skin touched. The rain danced in the desert. The biggest flood since Noah's Age was reigning the empty black Vegas streets. There was no going back now. The dam had burst.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am extremely completely terribly sorry that I haven't updated. Life intervenes. Now hopefully this will live up to the wait.**

**Beta'd by Dev! Thanks dude!**

**Chapter Six**

His head swam as he came back into consciousness, vision still a little blurry from exertion he hadn't had the likes of in thirty years. The ceiling, her bedroom ceiling, tilted a little even though he didn't move his head. Great. Grissom closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings with his other senses. The rain outside had slowed to a whisper and the dim light that seeped in under his eyelids told him it was around dawn. The bedroom was icy cold and he shivered a little under the blanket. The blanket smelled like her and the air smelled like sex.

A very satisfied, almost proud smile pulled the corners of his slightly swollen lips.

Beside him, he heard a little sigh. She shifted next to him and suddenly a warm leg wrapped around his. That was enough to make him try to open his eyes again. Sara's sinuous neck was the first thing that came into view. Her skin was close enough **that** he could feel its heat on his mouth before he kissed her. She tasted like rain. His lips slipped down her collar bone and he grinned against the hollow of her neck as even half asleep, she pulled him closer with her legs.

Clumsily, he pushed the downy comforter away and sucked in a gasp of air as the cold hit him. Two brown eyes slid open and gave him a knowing look. Neither said a word as the heat almost unbearably grew between them. He held himself over her with one hand and stroked her cheek with the other. The surrounding gloom made her all the more luminous in comparison. Careful not to lean on her too heavily, he let his hips rest against hers. Sara's thighs slid apart, letting him in, and he kissed her mouth gently, thanking her. Thanking her for not throwing him out of her bed. Thanking her for waiting for him for so long. He decided she would never have to wait again.

-- -- --

"Damn!"

The rain finally had let up and Grissom and Sara were inspecting his car, or what remained of it. One front wheel had popped off and was lying uselessly on the sidewalk, whilethe other was stuck in the swamp of mud that made up the gutter. The two back wheels were flat; shards of a shiny beer bottle glittered on the pavement. And the front window was smashed— probably around the same time someone had taken his radio. With an open window, of course his lovely, expensive leather seats were water-stained and grimy from whatever the wind had blown in.

"Well," he said grimly as Sara looked on in slight amusement, "at least I have the insurance papers so it should all be paid for." He shuffled around to the other side, tiptoeing across the least muddy path. Carefully, he cracked the door open. Pebbles of the former window sprinkled out on his toes.

The glove compartment was opened only after a good degree of pulling and cursing. The papers were water logged and in some parts illegible. A migraine gave its first twitching in the back of his skull. He sighed deeply. Humanity never failed to impress him with its capabilities. His brows wrinkled together and sadness flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Sara began.

Unwillingly, he found some humor in the situation. "Unless you hired Greg and Nick to do this while you distracted me, don't be," he told her.

"I guess I'm driving us to breakfast then." Her mouth quirked into a smile. He stopped missing his precious leather seats.

The memory of her in a button up shirt and nothing else flashed behind his eyes. "Nah, let's eat in. I'll even cook for you. But on one condition."

-- -- --

The sun came out as they sat in Sara's tiny kitchen, eating pancakes and laughing like old friends instead of new lovers.

"I can't believe they took your car stereo," she giggled.

Grissom pretended to pout.

"It was like fifty years old!" A large smile made her radiant.

"So am I," he quipped and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't wait to hear her comeback to that.

"Yes well, at least **you** are worth stealing!"

He groaned. "Do you want some wine with that cheese?"

She grinned over her glass of orange juice in response. The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence.

Something in Sara was a little disappointed as the light crept farther and farther across the tile. Soon their lazy Sunday would be over and her bed would be empty again. Only tonight she would have no excuse to bring him back.


End file.
